


Hunger

by FHC_Lynn



Series: Broken Windows [19]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs With Teeth, Hand Feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 16:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10857309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FHC_Lynn/pseuds/FHC_Lynn
Summary: Skids would never be sure which was worse: living in his own head or dealing with the commandant.





	Hunger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shibara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shibara/gifts).



> May Day prompt from Shibara: _non-con Tarn/Skids in their Grindcore days, prompt being dirty talking with an edge._
> 
> This isn't pretty. Read at your own risk.

_“He always pets his favorites.”_

At the time, he thought Quark had been trying to insult him for his misplaced joy. In retrospect, it occurred to Skids that Quark might have been warning him. Skids hadn’t asked then; now he would never know. Straining at the end of his leash to evade the commandant’s fingers, he knew it for the truth it was.

He wanted to just yank on his bonds. It would be easy to let the razor cables threaded through his knees, wrists, and neck do their job. It wouldn’t hurt too long, would it? Easier to bleed out then to melt as Quark had gotten, surely. But Skids knew he wouldn’t. Even now, he didn’t want to die.

“You think so much, Skids.” The commandant purred. The cadence squeezed at his spark, jarring its spin. Pain overwhelmed him, but it still didn’t drown out that damned voice. “It’s not good for a mech to look inside himself so much. You really should relax.”

“No,” Skids whispered.

“Shh. Let me help you...unwind, hmm?” The commandant’s left hand continued to caress between his flaring panels. “After all, you have been such a splendid help. You deserve some recognition.”

“I hate you.”

“It is a pity, then, that I do not care. Come.” The commandant reeled him in. The razor wire cut into his hoses and cables causing duller flares against the bright twisting pain of his spark. He crawled closer. Lurched, really, hobbled by the razor cable. That damned voice went on, “You look so good down there, kneeling to me, Skids. Now open -- Ah, ah. No biting. Remember what I promised you.”

Skids shuddered and offlined his optics. Even expecting them, he gagged as the commandant’s fingers crammed into his mouth. The monster always coated them in the finest engex, and the emptiness that clawed at Skids’ tanks didn't leave him dignity. He sucked at the mess, knowing it wouldn't help, but the intoxicated haze dulled the senses his pain and hunger didn't.

The fingers pulled free before he had quite sucked them clean, and he whimpered. They returned moments later, dripping with more, and Skids hated himself for how eagerly he took them back. This time, the commandant allowed him to lick and suck all of the engex off.

“Swallow again, Skids. There's a good pet. It’s such a pleasure to see your throat work. Hmm...better to feel it, though. And you're so hungry today. That won't do, will it? Come closer, Skids. That's it. Here. Let me give you something more filling.”

Fresh horror made him face the commandant again, but there was no beaker of prisoner-sourced energon as he had feared. The commandant had needed to lock his jaws the first time Skids had been fed those dead mechs’ fluids. He had purged, at the beginning, and they had gone in and shut his gag reflex off. With much of his own energon smearing the office floor from his own leash, he needed fuel so much, he didn’t know if he would throw it up, even if he could have now.

The commandant yanked Skids closer again. His hiss of displeasure squeezed down on Skids’ life like a spectral vice. Every part of his body screamed, and he lurched forward faster. Hitching himself up against the commandant's knees, he saw his goal. The mech’s spike jutted up over his lap. Skids’ tanks roiled, eager and disgusted both.

“Don't keep me waiting, Skids. You do remember what to do with one, don't you?”

“Had me sucking it yesterday, didn't you?” he gasped through the fresh wash of sourceless pain lancing through him. “You keep doing that. I might bite it off.”

“Ah, I had wondered if I had finally broken your spirit. I would have to let you go, if you became boring, Skids. Would you like that?” The commandant’s cleaned fingers stroked the side flare of his head. The soft touch hurt as much as anything else his captor did.

Honestly, he didn't think his body knew what pleasure felt like any more.

“Would you like to be freed, Skids?” The fingers tightened, and Skids licked the smears of engex from his lips. He reached his bound hands toward the commandant's spike, but the next squeeze had him gasping. “Skids? I asked you a question.”

“I want to suck your damned ugly spike.” Self-loathing rose in place of his gorge. His empty, empty tank rattled, and he wished he could throw up. All over the commandant's damn mask, so he could watch it drip down the mech's body to land on that spike as it shrank back down…

The commandant’s laugh punched a thousand needles through Skids’ brain and spark. Spreading his legs wider, he allowed Skids to crawl between them. “Not today then? You’re too eager for your snack.”

Transfluid wasn't fuel, processed and clean, however many similar elements it had. It wouldn't truly help the raw need in his lines, but it would still the seizing in his tank for a time. Skids would hate himself that little bit more for wanting the little respite it offered.

He would feel that much worse for still starving.

"Let's reward your good behavior, hmm?" The commandant tightened his grip on Skids' leash and leaned back in his seat. The hand at Skids' head forced Skids forward, burying his face in his captor's crotch before it disappeared. Skids obeyed the implicit command; he leaned forward to take the fat spike in his mouth. "Suck me all the way down now, Skids, and you'll reach this little treat..."

A flute filled with the expensive engex lowered into his limited view and tipped just enough to drip down over the commandant's lower abdomen. Skids' tormentor held it there, letting it drip-drip-drip down, and the meaning clicked.

He wondered if this was supposed to humiliate him more. More than fixing their smelter for them could do. More than watching living people melt in front of him. More than knowing he wanted to suck this monster off rather than die.

Snarling, Skids closed his denta down on the shaft, but only to scrape its surface, then swallowed the vile thing all the way down. Maybe it was capitulation, but he wanted that sweet smear slithering down this monster's junk.

"Ah, ah. Watch your mouth, pet. Are you going to call on Primus yet? Ask him to save you? Ssscrap. Damn you, right there. _Harder_." The flute shook in the monster's hand, more engex spilled out. Skids would never thank anyone for that little bit extra. Not while he ever had to smell this monster's grease up close in his face. Not while he waited for that mask to melt and swirl away like the others in his 'teleporter'. "Swallow me down all the way, Skids, and I might even give you a real ration. We can even do it this way again. I do so enjoy the way your mouth moves around me. Ssskids. Again."

The mech wouldn't stop talking, and every note of his voice scalded Skids’ nerves as if each time were the first. It got hard to think with the pain, but even gagging on his captor's spike, he couldn't bear to waste the engex. He didn't believe he would get that ration. Not real energon.

Skids knew what any ration given to him would be. And he knew he would drink it anyway. He thought about purging again when the commandant spilled down his throat. He wanted to. Every twitching nerve and raw thought lusted for that one thing, that one defiance. Their medic's work held. His throat flexed, swallowing everything down in a hungry mockery of eagerness.

"Shh. Calm down now, Skids. Slide back slowly. Oh, how good you feel. So very good. You've been such a good pet. Only one time with your denta. I'd say that's earned a reward… Are you very hungry? Would you like some more?" The commandant tipped the flute in his fingers, teasing Skids with the flow of the liquid inside. Skids watched it swirl inside the flute and remembered that it had once tasted like heaven.

He didn’t think heaven existed anymore. And he was trapped in hell.


End file.
